Failure Is Not An Option
by ifiknowyouatall
Summary: She'd never failed at anything in her life, until this.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership to anything in the NCIS: LA universe. They belong to someone else.

Also, this hasn't been beta'd; all grammatical mistakes are mine.

She quietly shut the bathroom door and shook her head ever so slightly as she made her way back to the couch. He just pulled her closer as a few silent tears fell.

Another month where she felt like the ultimate failure. Not for the reason everyone would think, if she ever voiced these thoughts. She had never thought of child-bearing as something that would define her as a woman. Never had she had an all consuming need to carry a child of her own that she'd heard other women describe. Hell, five years ago, she didn't even want kids at all. But things had changed, their thing had changed and the look in his eyes when they saw kids playing at the beach slowly shifted from amused to longing. And then he'd asked and she couldn't deny him, finding herself longing for it as well as soon as the suggestion was verbalized. And now it seemed like there were babies everywhere; everywhere but with them.

She was used to excelling, being first, being the best and most of all, in control. And yet with this, all she felt was completely helpless. No matter the books she read or how she changed her diet (god, she missed sugar), there was no magic solution. And the doctors just said give it more time, everything's working the way it's supposed to be for both of them. So, if it was working the way it was supposed to then, dammit, why wasn't this working. It's not like they weren't awesome at the trying part. And in the grand scheme of things a year and a half wasn't that long and she knew in the rational part of her mind that others try longer. But she had never been the patient kind, that was his role. And she knew if she suggested alternative routes to a family, he'd follow her in a heartbeat.

But that, in her mind, would be her greatest failure. He'd always been the giving and forgiving one. The one patiently waiting while she figured herself out, forgiving every verbal jab, and the one physical one she still beats herself up over sometimes. He's the one that's outwardly affectionate, the one strangers tell her she's so lucky to have. She knows he knows she loves him, but this was supposed to be her greatest gift, one she desperately wants to give him, and yet, she's not being allowed to. Because if there's one thing she's certain of, Marty Deeks deserves to be a dad. The world owes him the right to chase curly-haired minutures, half him, half her, down the beach on Sunday mornings.

She allows herself five minutes before lifting her head and getting on with their evening. Grabbing the remote, she flips on the TV as he kisses her temple one last time before getting up to grab popcorn and beer. She won't stop trying to give him this, she just wishes she had a little more control.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Let me check. Nope, characters still aren't mine. Shout out to hermionesmydawg for encouragement.

She couldn't hear the rythmic thumping of her feet against the concrete sidewalk over the blaring techno music in her headphones. The repetition was theraptic, as was the pain in her lungs as she pushed her speed to its upper limits. Running had become her escape. Whenever she felt like the walls of her life were starting to close in she went for a run. She'd been going for a lot of runs lately.

Today, even her escape was mocking her. The toddler escaping his mother's grasp running after seagulls and a man pushing a stroller had both tugged at her heart, but she had managed the obligatory smile. It was the pregnant women's speed walking group that had been the final straw and had caused her to make this a speed workout instead of distance.

Things had become clear during the run. The war and chaos and unhappiness invading her mind needed to end. She needed to take back control of something if she was ever going to be able accept fate and that she didn't have control over this. If she was ever going to be able to be 'her' when all this ended, however this ended, she needed to grasp, however wildly, for some semblence of control. She needed to be selfish for just a little bit.

The increased pace of her run had brought her home long before her husband expected her. She found him lounging on the couch, lazily petting the dog's ears, not mentally prepared for the whirlwind of sweat, determination and tears that came barreling through the door.

"I'm not happy." That made him sit up straight.

"What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything. I didn't do anything. The mob of pregnant women at the beach didn't do anything."

"We'll, they probably did a little something, they were pregnant after all."

"Deeks. Really?"

"Sorry. Tense situation, humor. I'm serious now, how can I fix this?"

"We need to stop trying." And the second she saw his face fall it nearly broke her resolve, but she had to do this if she was ever going to have a prayer of being a good mom in the future, wherever the kid came from. "I'm not saying for good, I'm saying for now. I'm going insane. I'm an emotional wreck and I need to be able to eat what I want, run however long I want, have sex when we want and not because a calendar says we should or shouldn't. I'm afraid if I don't grab some control now that I'll never get it back and if that happens I'll lose me, we'll lose us and then what was the point of this to begin with?" He wasn't sure he'd heard her take a breath during that entire speech.

"Ok..." He said very slowly, treading carefully, "I'm not sure i caught all that, but we'll stop if that's what you want." He couldn't hide the tinge of sadness in his voice.

"I just need to be my old self for a couple months. I'm not saying stop stop, I'm just saying I need to shift focus, change the mission."

"And just so I'm clear, what is the mission?"

"Be happy."

"With you, Kensalina, best mission ever."


	3. Chapter 3

_This will be the last chapter. The characters don't belong to me._

Telling yourself that you need to be happy, wanting to be happy with what you'd been given, and actually being happy are all very different things. Her declaration months ago that the mission was to be happy did not instantaneously make them so. Sure, being able to drink as much coffee as she wanted, eat all the Hostess snacks she could stomach, helped. But babies in the park still tugged at her heart and she still wanted to throw a shoe at the TV when the tax commercial asked her if she'd made a tiny human being that year. Seriously, hadn't they used that same pitch years ago? And each month, she still felt the tears well up in her eyes, even though they were no longer 'trying.'

And Deeks...he tried to go back to what was no longer normal, to the joking, playful ease that had slowly left their relationship over the course of the last year as the frustration built. Frustration that was kept just below the surface and would occasionally bubble over into arguments and standoffs that rivaled their first weeks as partners. And for all of their efforts, it seemed like they would fail at this new mission too.

Then one lazy Saturday afternoon they were sitting on the couch watching football and she nudged him suggestively with her foot and he gave her his best cheesy pick up line and she was laughing as she led him up the stairs to their bedroom. The chuckles had only grown louder as she sat on the edge of the bed and watched him start to undress. The unexplained, completely un-Kensi-like, full-blown giggle-fit that had erupted may have wounded a lesser man, but he hadn't heard his wife laugh like that in too long. He didn't know why or what she found so funny, and she told him through watering eyes and residual laughter that she didn't either. It was just good to laugh. The sex that had finally occurred once she calmed down and caught her breath was both heated and comforting, like it had been before it served a purpose beyond just pleasure and enjoyment. It was as if they'd turned a corner.

That lazy Saturday was years ago now. The much-wanted baby never came. He would never chase a curly-haired half him, half her down the beach. In that sense, perhaps she had failed. But her success, realizing that she was blessed just to have that man in her life and making sure she showed him that every day. They had had a very happy life. That mission was an ongoing success. They took all those trips that he always told her they would. And they did good, saving the world on occasion. But the day had come now, to hang up their guns. Time had finally caught up with them physically and the loss of their team leader to his lifelong mission, it had been the final straw. Both had taken desk jobs and the State of California deemed those jobs appropriate occupations for foster parents.

The child he chased down the beach may not be genetically his or hers and the face of that child might change from time to time, but there was always laughter. They made it their next mission that they would give these children better than either of them had in their comparatively brief times in the system. But ultimately, they would give these kids better than their team leader had, better than 37 foster homes and no first name. They would give these kids a happy childhood, in honor of a little boy named G.


	4. Chapter 4

A Tumblr prompt pushed me to reenter this world for just a little longer. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. They're still not mine though.

* * *

><p>She wasn't their first.<p>

Half a dozen wards of the state had passed through their doors in the last two years: surly teenagers waiting for their foster care sentence to time out; precious infants placed in their arms for fleeting moments until responsible relatives could be found. The last had been a brother and sister, after a custody dispute turned violent. They weren't miracle workers, but that's not what they were trying to be. They were however, a stable port in a stormy sea and were whatever these poor lost souls needed them to be - for the short time they passed through their lives - a ride home when a party got out of hand, provider of bottle of formula and a lullaby at 2AM or an expert monster-under-the-bed checker.

But she was different.

She came to their door, a scrawny 4 year old, clutching her far-too-empty garbage bag with no one on the horizon who would want to take her back. Her light brown hair was scraggly and in a haphazard pony tail, her clothes ill-fitting. She didn't say a word as the social worker bent down to tell her she'd be staying at the Deeks' house for a while.

She didn't say a word at breakfast the next morning when Deeks served her Mickey Mouse pancakes and Kensi cajoled her to use as much syrup as she wanted. She didn't say a word when they took her to the beach to build sandcastles. She didn't say a word for many months.

But they weren't deterred. They both knew what it was to build up walls. It pained them to think of the life they'd read about in her file that caused a four year old to build hers so high. Working with professional therapists and establishing a routine, Kensi and Deeks made their home and their life the safe, stable place she needed.

Then, one day at the beach, Deeks had taken her little hand and led her a few cautious steps into the ocean, letting the surf lap at her feet when he felt a gentle tug. He looked down at his small charge.

"What is it Penny?" He asked softly, not expecting a reply. But she motioned for him to come closer. Squatting down to her level, he glanced back at his wife before turning to the child and nodding yes, having been rendered speechless.

She placed a quick kiss on his cheek before running back to their towels to pet Monty Jr.

"What'd she ask you?" Kensi looked over her shoulder at her husband before she returned to moat-digging./

"That's our secret, isn't it Penny?" The little girl lifted her head from her canine companion's fur and nodded enthusiastically.

"Well, ok then." Kensi smiled softly, a warm feeling in her stomach as she looked at her fledgling family, the love of her life finally getting what he wanted most, to be a dad.

And a family they became. She held both their hands before she boarded the bus for her first day of school, sat them down at 8 years old to tell them that she knew Santa wasn't real, cried on Kensi's shoulder when her first crush broke her heart and held Deeks' hand as they walked through the surf every Father's Day.

The fall after her 18th birthday she packed up all her things into her car, prepared to drive up the coast.

"You got everything you need sweetie?" Kensi's voice cracked.

"Yeah, I think so. If not, I'll be back at Thanksgiving." She casually responded while giving her younger sister a hug and then stood on her tiptoes to tossle her 'little' brother's hair.

Deeks shut the trunk and walked back towards the front stoop. She took a few steps out to meet him before leaning in to whisper in his ear.

Just as it was fourteen years ago, he was too choked up to speak and so he nodded once again. He closed his eyes and saw the little four year old she was as he felt the brush of a kiss on his cheek from the woman she'd become.

That night as they crawled into bed, Kensi turned to him and before turning off the light asked, "You gonna tell me what she asked you this time?"

"Same this she did at the beach when she was little: Can I kiss you, Dad?"


End file.
